


Lost and Found

by SomedayonBroadway



Series: A Brother’s Fight [2]
Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Brotherly Love, Sick Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-03-06 10:50:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18849580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomedayonBroadway/pseuds/SomedayonBroadway
Summary: "Ya from helpin' out a new brother." By the end of this, Race's tears began to fall. He clutched onto the little boy's hand and nodded his head. "And ya didn't even know me yet."





	Lost and Found

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MAC](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MAC/gifts).



> Hi everybody! I'm back with another request! I'm so happy to be writing all of these requests, guys. They're so much fun!
> 
> This was one from mac. They requested a little backstory for one of the first stories I ever posted called "A Brother's Fight." I thought it was a short, sweet idea.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!

The wind howled as the sun went down. Crutchie tried to pull his thin blanket further around himself. The sad truth was, this was as warm as he was going to get. Though, in spite of the chill that travelled down his spine, it wasn't himself that he was truly worried about.

It didn't get passed him, the way the boy- the one laying helplessly in Crutchie's own bed- shivered. The three blankets laid over him, surrendered to him by a few of the young newsie's older brothers that very morning, practically did nothing to protect him.

The look that Jack had given him the night prior would be a look that engraved itself into the boy's mind for the rest of his life. It was true. Crutchie had felt the heat, he'd felt the tremors the second he'd reached into that lousy excuse for a shelter to help this new stranger out. It was no place to call home. It was hardly any kind of protection from an unforgiving, crummy world. In fact, it was a dumpster. The one outside every newsies favorite deli joint. Jacobi's. A woman had given Crutchie a whole quarter that day. He thought maybe he'd get himself something.

Little did he know he'd stumble across such a heartbreaking sight.

The boy was about his age. At least, he assumed so. He was clinging to life out in the cold. His shivers were visible from several feet away. He'd looked so scared and alone that Crutchie almost forgot that just mere months ago, he'd had that same look on his face.

Now the boy, detached and quiet as he was, lay in a restless sleep on a bed that was not his own. It was still a mystery if he had a bed, a place to stay. It wasn't likely. Not after finding him the way he was. Crutchie refused to leave his side since he'd dragged him inside. Jack had tried to get him to go out and sell. He'd practically begged him to just leave this poor kid all by himself in a house that he wouldn't recognize when he woke up.

If he woke up...

Being seven years old, the youngest of the bunch over in Manhattan, the older boys always tried to shield him from the cold realities of life and death. But the kid was no stranger to sickness. Not after he'd lost his own parents and his own leg. Not after Skip. Skip wasn't around anymore. Howler was gone too, leaving them not too long afterwards. Jack liked to tell him stories. Sometimes, the youngest boy in the lodge would let himself believe them; let himself believe that Skip and Howler were just an expensive train ride away, waiting for them out west.

But Crutchie wasn't oblivious. He could hear the coughs and cries clear through the walls. He saw the red spotted clothes that were being discarded later on. Skip and Howler were gone. And there was no bringing them back.

Another cough made Crutchie flinch. It sounded painful; agonizing. The young child immediately grabbed for the cloth and small bowl of water sitting on the bedside table to his right. He rung the small cloth out, gently reaching to dap at the drops of sweat that littered the other boy's forehead. What he didn't expect was for the small stranger's eyes to snap open.

For the first time, those crystal blue eyes were open, wide enough for Crutchie to see them clearer than he'd thought he'd seen anything in his entire life. Before he could say anything to try and calm him, a weak hand whipped up and latched around his wrist. The newsie gasped in surprise.

"Dove sono?" he cried out in a language Crutchie couldn't place at the moment. "Tu chi sei?" His voice was quiet and raspy. The young newsie winced, gently taking his seized wrist down to the mattress, trying to get the other kid's arm down. The boy was in no condition to fight with him.

"Hey! It's okay! It's okay!" Crutchie tried desperately, wracking his brain to try and remember what the older boys did to get him or any of the other, younger newsies to calm down. Most of the time, Bear would just scoop the littles up, letting them sob against his chest. Crutchie didn't know if he should try anything like that. He didn't know anything about this boy. For all he knew, he could've been at that place Jackie had gone to- the one that made Jackie not like touch anymore. "I ain't gonna hurt ya!"

The boy stared up at him with fear clear in his eyes. He was clearly still too weak to try and sit up. Crutchie took his chance. He dabbed at the boy's forehead with the cloth and calmly pushed the small, skinny arms back down as the small stranger tried to fight him. "It's okay... you're safe..."

At the warm tone of the voice, the stranger quieted down a little bit. But tears ran down his cheeks as he took in the unfamiliar environment and the unfamiliar boy sitting so closely beside him. "I... where?" he attempted to ask.

Crutchie smiled at him. "You're at the Newsboy's Lodgin' House... you're safe..." The kid was still clearly confused. But the young newsie continued in his attempts to dab the sweat off of the other boy's head. "It's okay... you'll be okay..." It seemed as though the child had no choice but to relax underneath his touch and let his eyes close as he took in short, shaky breaths.

"Hey, Crutch," a quiet voice called from the doorway. The boy turned at the voice, letting himself smile when he caught sight of his best friend walking to him after a long hard day of selling. "How's he doin'?"

With a shrug, Crutchie turned back to the boy. "The same I guess... he w's awake two seconds ago, but I don' think he knows English too good..." he responded, watching the shivering stranger who occupied his bed.

Jack pulled up a chair and sat down beside him, taking the cloth and water that was still in the younger boy's hand. The nine year old watched his younger friend for a moment before he reached down to feel the sick child's head. "Crutch... he don't look like he's doin' too good..."

"Not yet," the boy replied. His optimism was a rarity in the Lodge in the worst kinds of situation. He'd learned long ago that sometimes believing something would be okay is the very thing that made it okay. "I think he's stronger than he looks..."

It was something that Jack admired. His best friend always somehow saw the best in people. But this tiny stranger was in bad shape. He was really sick. Even Bear didn't think he was gonna pull through. "Crutchie..."

"He's gonna make it, Jack," he cut off, before the older newsie could say anything else. "He... he's gonna make it..." He wasn't sure why he was so determined. For some unexplainable reason he wanted this kid to prove Jack wrong, to prove everyone wrong. He would. He had to.

And Crutchie would help him every way he knew how.

Every morning, Crutchie was up before the rest of the gang. Sharing a bed with Jack, he was able to get up without waking the heavy sleeper. He typically made it to the door before anyone began to stir. He never stopped to see who it was. He'd get to the gate before anyone else. And he'd get more papers than he could truly carry, causing Jack to adjust his bag every morning so most of them would fit in there, though he still had to carry about a quarter of his load in his arms.

"Don't burn yourself out, kid," Jack would say. Crutchie always just shook his head. It wasn't like anyone else was helping him, though he knew his best friend was always only a block away, watching him in case he collapsed under the weight of all the papers he carried. He never did. He was a quick seller with his crutch. The ladies adored him.

By lunch it was back to the Lodge for the boy. He'd buy some bread, some soup, anything to give his new friend. The boy was still out of it. Still sick. It didn't seem like he was getting better. But everyday, Crutchie went in and sat down.

"Hi..." he'd say. The boy would only sometimes look at him, still terrified and shaken as ever. It was never until he took the food out of his bag that the kid actually seemed to acknowledge him. "I thought you might be hungry." The kid never replied, just stared at the food like he might not be able to have it, like he was afraid Crutchie would take it away from him. He didn't. He never did. But his heart broke a little more every time he saw that look in those piercing blue eyes.

The second it was within reach, every bit of the food was snatched from his hands. Crutchie always saved a bit for himself, hiding it away somewhere his new friend couldn't grab it, but he always left half of his earnings by the other kid's bed, telling him to not let any of his brothers take it. None of them would, at least not really. They'd tease him but this kid needed something to start paying rent. Crutchie was going to make sure he had it.

For a week he did this. The stranger never spoke. Not once. He always seemed to understand whatever Crutchie said, but every time he asked the boy a question, he'd only maybe give him a small shake of the head or a nod. Sometimes he wouldn't even respond at all. Sometimes Crutchie thought he just liked to hear someone speaking to him. And that was okay.

It wasn't until a week later that he walked in at lunch to find Jack and Bear sitting beside the boy, sad looks on their faces.

"What's goin' on?" he asked, half a loaf of bread in his hands. They both turned to him. But the boy wasn't looking at them. He only had eyes for the stranger who was laying, drenched in his own sweat. His eyes were closed.

Jack rushed towards him as Bear brushed back the young stranger's blond curls. "Crutchie, ya need ta go back downstairs, or ta Jacobi's, okay?" he asked. But the younger boy shook his head.

"Bear... what's goin' on?" he asked again, shoving passed Jack to get to his own bunk.

The newsie leader gave him a sad look. It was then that Crutchie heard the shallow breaths coming from the child he'd found curled up in a trash bin. He set the bread down on the table beside him, sitting down on the edge of the bed, his eyes full of worry. "He really ain't doin' too good, Crutchie... n' it ain't good for the otha' boy's ta keep him 'round..."

Those words hurt. The littlest newsies eyes widened too much. He knew what that meant. "He's gettin' better! I knows he is! Don't take him ta the otha' room!" he started begging. "He's gonna be fine!"

But Bear just put a hand on his back. "Charlie... he's real sick..."

That made Crutchie pause. Bear never used his given name. He never used any of their given names. And suddenly the tears began to fall for this boy who he didn't even know. "N-no... he's okay... he's gotta be..." he mumbled, reaching out for the other kid's hand. "He's gotta be okay..."

He couldn't lose this kid. For some reason, it was dire that this boy stay alive. He wanted him to open his eyes again, to finally speak, to learn his name. But Bear reached for him. He tried to pull him away, probably into his chest to let him cry. Crutchie shook his head and shoved him off. The leader just came back, trying to console his youngest brother in anyway he could.

Bear never expected for the boy on the bed to open his eyes. He was even more in shock when he immediately sat up and shoved him away from Crutchie, who gasped at the gesture.

The kid was trying to protect him.

"Hey!" Crutchie cried, reaching for those tiny arms, trying to get him to settle down. "Stop it! It's okay! It's okay!" The boy continued to shove at Bear until the older newsie finally stood and raised his hands in a sign of surrender. "Hey... it's okay..." he promised again, placing a hand on the stranger's chest.

The boy looked between him and the leader, scooting himself back so he could slouch against the wall. Then he pointed to Crutchie's arm with a weak, shaking finger. "Hurt?" he asked confused. His eyes were drooping. It was clear he couldn't fight anyone, but Bear had backed off anyways.

Crutchie shook his head. "No... I'm okay... you're okay. No one here's gonna hurt ya." Still the boy glared at Bear through his sweaty curls that dangled in his eyes. The only thing that Crutchie could do was glance over at Jack who still stood in shock a few steps away. "These're my friends..." he added, reaching for the bread that he set down only a few moments ago.

Again, there was that look in the boy's eyes. He was so hungry. The kid was so small. Crutchie didn't want to look up to see the pitied look in his best friend's eyes as this kid snatched the bread from his hands. He was like a lost puppy. It was heartbreaking. But before the boy took a bite, he looked up at his savior. "Uhm... th-thank you..." The gimp boy's heart swelled. The accent behind the words was still strong. But the kid understood him. That was all that mattered.

"You's welcome," he responded with his buttery smile.

And then the boy began devouring the small food that he'd been given. Bear swooped back in immediately to hold his tiny wrist, pulling the loaf from his lips. The stranger whined and tried to pull away. "No, no, slow down... you don't wanna choke, a'right?" he explained gently. Crutchie looked over at Jack who was watching the scene so intently, still a bit shocked. His best friend was always so close to Bear. He was next in line to lead. So he soaked up every detail. Crutchie admired that.

"Hungry!" the child argued. Clearly his English was a working project. But it was a start. "Lasciarlo andare!" Bear gave him a look. Crutchie swore the older boy was a God of some kind. The kid settled down immediately, seeming to understand exactly what was being said to him. That, or he was too terrified and weak to actually argue.

Bear ended up tearing up the bread, giving the small stranger one piece at a time. And Jack ended up sitting down beside them, helping the boy lay back down and dabbing at his forehead while he closed his eyes again.

Everyday after that, Jack went back to the lodge with Crutchie, checking on their new friend. He was a miracle. That's what Bear said. Jack still couldn't believe it. He'd been so sure that the boy wasn't going to make it. And yet, there he was. Waking up and eating all on his own, trying his best to communicate with his limited vocabulary. Until one day, they walked back and the boy was actually standing, alone, walking all by himself.

Jack had immediately rushed towards him to help him back to bed. But the boy had refused the help stubbornly with a shake of his head as he stood by the window, breathing in the outside air. "What're ya doin, kid?" he asked, though there was a smile on his face that he couldn't hide too well.

The boy didn't respond, just leaned up against the side of the window and looked out into the city, like he longed for something. Crutchie understood that. He knew he had the same look in his eyes last summer, when all the boys had gone out to play in the sun and swim in the river and he stayed inside with a busted leg. "Let him be, Jackie..." he shrugged, limping over to them, also looking out the window. There were so many people out there. So many buildings.

For a long while, none of them spoke. They just stood there, watching the city bustle on and watching newsies out on the streets hawk their headlines to their hearts content. It was a comfortable silence. Until it was broken.

Those blue eyes turned to him slowly and unsure, like what he was about to say next would somehow change something. But all that came out was a small, "why... mi hai aiutato?"

Everything inside Crutchie broke at that one small word that he could understand. He looked over to Jack as he didn't know what to say. The older boy just smiled at him and shrugged his shoulders. And all the child was able to say was, "you's our new brudda'." It was a simple explanation. The only one he had. "Ain't nothin' can stop me from helpin' ya when ya needs it. Not even this," he stated, tapping his crutch on the ground. He felt Jack's arm sling around his shoulders as he smiled up at the boy who was only a few inches taller than him.

That was the first time anyone had ever seen the small stranger smile.

It wouldn't be the last.

They were inseparable, the three of them. Jack, Crutchie and this kid who was too stubborn for death. A boy who would grow up and learn English and become one of the most sarcastic, loud, funny, lucky, hotheaded kids that the Newsboys Lodging House ever saw.

Their brother. Racetrack. Racetrack Higgins.

 

**Author's Note:**

> There you have it. I thought this was really cute. I hope you guys all liked it.
> 
> I think I've said this before, but I made a tumblr! And I'm addicted. Today, I got a "Bad Things Happen" Bingo card. Which is dangerous. But hey, I'm stoked. So, if you guys would like to see it, let me know and I'll post it on tumblr. If not, know some dark things are coming your way ;).
> 
> Anyways,
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! Make sure to tell me what you liked, what you didn't, what you'd change or what you'd improve by leaving me a review! Love ya, fansies!


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